


Sciamachy

by coconutcluster



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Panic Attack, Prinxiety - Freeform, i am too Good for any more at once, my fragile heart cannot take it, one(1) bad word, platonic or romantic, self-deprecating thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 10:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15410535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coconutcluster/pseuds/coconutcluster
Summary: Sciamachy: (n.) A battle against imaginary enemiesOr, Roman's weekly simulation in the Imagination.And the aftermath.





	Sciamachy

14: “You’re a disappointment. ”

98: “Not sure if you could tell, but I’m not exactly a people person. ”

147: “I can take care of myself just fine.”

 

  “You’re a disappointment.”

  Roman stood panting in the middle of a dense, buzzing forest, his skin painted the same golden red under the twilight sky as the leaves that twisted to the ground around him; his fingers curled tighter around the hilt of his katana as he glanced around wildly. Eyes scanning the space between trunks and branches, the prince sidestepped the roots at his feet and treaded carefully forward.

  He always hated this part.

  Chimeras, he could deal with - they were big cats in his book, frustrated easily but calmed down just the same, and he could corral them with little difficulty and only the slightest racing of his heart (those claws were atrocious, and _maybe_ he shrieked when they got too close to his face, but that was beside the point). They always came first, and they were pushed to the back of his mind nearly immediately as he proceeded.

  The tower was admittedly more… _concerning_. A single window looming hundreds of feet above the grassy field that splayed before its bricks, it didn’t exactly scream ‘welcoming’ - not like Roman had a choice - but he managed nonetheless; there was almost always a rope hidden under a rotting plank, prompting his scaling skills to be put to use. He couldn’t always bring himself to look down, however. (He could never tell if the tower or the height itself was his fear, though he quite honestly leaned towards the tower - he knew all too well the frequency of royalty in high, secluded rooms, and he wasn’t keen on becoming one of them.)

  Even the forest wasn’t debilitating. Sure, the trees were far too densely packed for his comfort - they blocked his perception - and the faint sounds that echoed in his head at three times their hushed volume kept his eyes wide and heart thumping in his chest, but he could find a comfortable patch of moss and push any racing thoughts from his head as best he could.

  He only knew that part was over when the voice started up.

  The scenery never changed; the trees stayed dank and shadowed around him, usually blackened by a starless sky (unless he started earlier in the day, in which case the whole forest shifted with eerie golden light, casting shadows around him and fooling his eyes into mirages of creatures that never shimmered into reality). The only thing that changed was the silence around him - it morphed into a rumble, almost thunder-like, and a disembodied voice pierced the heavy air, pushing its way through his head like a bulldozer.

  “You’ve let them down.”

  “Let who down?” Roman yelled into the air, dutifully ignoring the crack in his voice halfway through. His knuckles turned white around the hilt of his sword as a branch snapped off to his left.

  “You will never be enough.”

 He glared into the sky, the fading orange glow shrouded by intertwining branches over his head, and snapped, “Enough for who?!” He didn’t truly expect an answer from the being, whatever it was, but he couldn’t tell if that was a relief or a-

   _A disappointment._

Roman shook his head, and he heard the blood rush to his ears before he stilled once more.

  “You will never become what you wish to be.”

  “Y-” He choked. He _choked_ , he couldn’t choke, not now- the creative side straightened up and raised his chin. “Yes, I will!”

  He swallowed the anxiety that rose in his throat when the forest remained silent.

  “You’re lying to yourself.”

  A gust of wind shuddered against his back as Roman paled; his skin prickled with something - disgust, perhaps, but with whom, with _what_ , he couldn’t tell.

  “No,” he said meekly.

  “ _Yes_ .” The voice was louder, closer, curling around him and beating against his heart in an instant. Roman took an involuntary step back, his eyes flitting wildly across the trees around him - they were everywhere, shielding _it_ , blocking his vision - and he finally pulled his sword from its hilt at his hips, wielding it in front of his trembling figure.

   _Brave, Roman. You’re brave._

“You’re letting them down, Roman.” It was nearer still, echoing through his head. “You’ve lost your spark. You’re hanging on by a thread. You’re running on pity-driven flattery. You won’t last another second in their good graces.”

  His arms were tired. His arms never got tired, but they were shaking, bolts of pain shooting to his shoulder with every tremor.

  “Give it up, Roman.”

   _No_.  The voice was closer, louder, a screech between his ears - it truly was resounding through his head. Black splotches dotted his vision.

  “You’re failing.”

  “You’re useless.”

  “You’re _nothing_.”   

   His knees buckled, and the world went white.

 

 

  “ _Roman_?”

  The lilting coo of birds above Roman filled his ears, lulling him from his exhausted state. He took a deep breath, dreading the presence he felt to his right.

  “Roman!”

  Roman let his eyes flicker open - it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, but the sky in the Imagination was now a pale, shining blue, dotted with clouds and a sun that made his head throb. He turned on his side, propping his head up in one palm as he glanced at the door.

  Virgil stood in the doorway, his brow low over wide eyes, his head swiveling to take in the scenery (Roman noticed with unsurprised annoyance that the trees had spruced themselves up - rotting greenery had turned to blooming spring oaks, shimmering with the character pearlescence of the Imagination).

  “How may I be of assistance, Your Grand Lord of the Dark and Emotionally-Repressed?” Roman said in a sing-song voice, falling carelessly back on his back to stare at the sky. He heard the door close - for a moment, he nearly believed Virgil just left without even bothering to power through a conversation with the prince before him - but soft, slow footsteps crunched through the grass until he felt the other boy lower himself onto the ground beside him.

  “I heard screaming,” Virgil said quietly.

   _Screaming_ , Roman mused to himself. _That’s new_. “Well, that sound concerning,” he laughed, letting his eyes fall shut before he could spot Virgil’s raised eyebrow. “What brings you to my neck of the woods on this lovely morn?”

  “It’s four in the afternoon.” The creative side just hummed in response. “ _And_ Lo and Pat are out, so I can make a pretty good guess about the screaming.”

  Roman glanced to him with an over-exaggerated pout, his eyes narrowed to slits. “I’m not sure I like what you’re suggesting. I do not _scream_ , Virgil, I shout. It’s manly.”

  “I’m sure.”

  They fell abruptly into a brimming silence; Roman was more than happy for the conversation to end there, but Virgil took a heavy breath, and he knew it wasn’t over. He had half a mind to sit up and just saunter out of the Imagination without a further word.

  “So…” Virgil started before he could flesh out a plan. “Are you… okay? Or do you need to, like, talk about… whatever?”

  Roman raised his eyebrows up at the anxious side, who was chewing on his lip as he glimpsed at the prince.

  “What?” he snapped, looking back down at his hands, shrouded in the sleeves of his hoodie.

  “Was that an actual proposition? Or an actual _sentence_?” Roman snickered, propping himself up on his elbows once more to meet Virgil’s eyes; Virgil frowned.

  “Not sure if you can tell, but I’m not exactly a people person,” he muttered, wrapping his arms around himself. “Just trying to help.”

  Roman watched him carefully, his gaze dropping to Virgil’s twitching fingers, obviously eager to be picking at something. “Are _you_ okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he insisted, almost too quickly. “I was asking about you - don’t think I don’t know you’re avoiding the question.” He paused, his gaze flitting around the forest, and leaned back on the palms of his hands to stare at the sky. - his posture was serene, almost relaxed, but Roman saw the hint of a smirk pulling at his lips. “Why is it that you always come in here at the same time every week? Do you have to fight dragons _that_ much? I didn’t think they were that difficult to defeat.”

  Something in Roman’s chest ached at that. It felt hollow, replacing the pounding of his heart with a emptiness that seemed to carve away at him. “I don’t just fight dragons,” he muttered as he picked at the grass under his fingertips; Virgil raised his eyebrows, his smirk growing. An alarm went off in Roman’s head - something a little like _AHHHHHHHHHHH_ \- and he snapped up to pull at his sash, straightening it across his chest, his nose in the air. “And I’d like to see you try to slay one.”

  “I’ll pass.” Virgil huffed a purple lock out of his eyes, turning back to the sky. “What else?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What else? If you don’t just fight dragons - or dragon witches, whatever - what do you do in here all the time?”

  Roman’s face screwed up, confusion and skepticism painting his features as he glanced around them. “I make things. It’s the Imagination, Virgil.”

  “No duh, Sherlock, but- wait, is that your sword?”

  His gaze snapped to where Virgil was staring and, sure enough, his katana laid strewn and abandoned a few feet away, its blade dark with mud and something black that Roman could only guess was the remnants of the forest’s last appearance.

  The voice ran through his head again in an instant - _disappointment pity failing useless_ **_nothing_ ** \- and his hand shot out for the hilt as the sky darkened overhead. He felt his heart start racing in his chest, felt his face heat up, as his fingers curled around the leather; he turned away from Virgil, miming the motions of polishing the blade and clearing his throat.

  “Thank you,” he said after a moment, and he only hoped his voice was more stable than he felt. “I must have dropped it while- fighting. The- a chimera, I mean.”

  He chanced a glance over his shoulder when Virgil didn’t respond.

  The anxious side was staring at him with raised eyebrows, his arms crossed over his chest. “What,” he started slowly, “was _that_?”

  “What?”

  “You really think that was slick?” Roman frowned as Virgil laughed, bitter and dry. “Jesus, Roman, just paste a sign on your forehead- it’ll be less obvious! Wow, I thought you were the actor, _jeez_ -”

  “Are you quite finished?”

  “Nah, gimme a minute more.” Virgil wheezed a final laugh, wiping at his eyes (the _audacity_ ) before he took a deep breath and looked to Roman, a ghost of a smirk still on his lips. “So what happened, mister Knight in Shining Facade?”

  Roman scoffed. “That’s not even good-”

  “ _Roman_. Stop avoiding the question.”

  “Nothing happened!” A drop of rain fell onto his shoulder, but Roman didn’t notice, not even as one drop steadied to a drizzle. “And I can take care of myself just fine, thank you!”

  Virgil pulled his hoodie tighter around himself as the shower came down around them, harder every second. “Something is clearly bothering you!” he insisted fervently; he gave a sharp sigh, glancing around again, and squeezed his eyes shut, his lips pursed. His hair slowly stuck to his forehead as it slowly got wetter. “You can talk here, Roman- I’m not gonna tell anyone-”

  “That’s not the _problem!_ ” Roman shouted, and all Hell broke loose.

  The sky opened up to a downpour - thunder roared over their heads as rain pounded against them through the trees, deafening and heavy enough to block Roman’s view of Virgil’s figure only a foot away.

  “ _Roman!_ ” he could barely make out through the drumming in his ears, “ _Jesus- make it stop!”_

But his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest - it was moving too fast, everything was a blur around him and he couldn’t force air through his lungs - and he curled in on himself, the voice in his head forming through the rain, screaming into his ear- _useless disappointment failure_ -

  “ _ROMAN!”_ He felt a hand on his shoulder; he jerked back, choking on the water that poured down his face - he couldn’t see, his vision warped to a blur- was he crying?

   _Pathetic useless disappointment dry nothing-_

“ _What?”_ That was Virgil’s voice, Roman knew that; it was incredulous, sharp, raspy in its volume. “ _What are you talking about? What’s nothing?”_ He was shouting, but Roman could barely hear through the voice - the simulation was over; why was the voice still there?

_“Roman, what’s going on!”_

He didn’t know-

  “ _Roman!_ ”

  He didn’t _know!_

  “ _Roman, BREATHE!_ ”

  A small breath - it was barely a gasp, but God, it was something and Roman would have taken _anything_ \- filled his lungs, and his heart, though still racing, slowed the slightest bit, enough for him to reorient himself in the lessening rain.

  Virgil sat crouched in front of him, eyes wide and hands hovering over Roman’s shoulders. “Roman?”

  His throat felt thick, but he cleared it, blinking quickly to rid his eyes of any last raindrops or tears. “Yes?” he managed after a moment. He knew the questions were inevitable - _What was that?_ and _Why in God’s name did you do that?_ and _Roman, what the fuck?_

 “Are you okay?”

  What.

  “What?” Roman exhaled.

  “You- can you breathe?” Virgil said, leaning an inch closer and immediately jerking back. “You’re breathing, right?”

  “...Yes, I’m breathing.”

  Virgil nodded quickly, his gaze falling to the ground as his worried at his wrists; Roman reached out and placed a hand gently over his interlocked hands, and Virgil paused, meeting his eyes.

  “Not just dragons, huh?”

  Roman chuckled. “Not quite.” Virgil cracked a small, crooked smile, his hands finally falling to a still. Roman looked down, glimpsing at his sword, and he knew what he had to do despite the sinking anchor in his stomach.

  “It’s a fear simulation,” he said quietly, rubbing his thumb idly over where it rested on the sleeve of Virgil’s hoodie.

  “What?”

  “That’s why I’m here every week- well, part of the reason,” he continued hesitantly. “I really do come here to create, but once a week, I let the Imagination loose into my subconscious to run through my fears. It’s a simulation.”

  Virgil quirked an eyebrow at him. “What? Why?”

  “Because I’m supposed to be _brave_! I’m the knight!” Roman gestured wildly to his outfit, flinching as he noticed the gray and brown splotches across its white fabric. “It’s important for me to be the best I can be for Thomas in as many ways as I can, and that means conquering the stupid things holding me back!”

  “Like what?”

  “Chimeras, and heights and towers, and-” He seemed to choke; the words got tangled in his throat as he finally comprehended the last section of the simulation.

  “...and?”

  “And myself,” he mumbled. His posture wilted as he sighed. “Myself, that’s… I’m holding myself back.”

  Virgil watched him carefully, his head tilted to the side. “How’s that?”

   _Useless disappointment failure nothing nothing nothing_

  “I’m disappointing you all,” Roman tried to explain, his other hand twitching hopelessly at his side. “I’m useless to Thomas, I’m failing him. I’m-” _nothing._

  “That’s your fear, “ Virgil said quietly. Roman just nodded, “But… you know it’s not true?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “It’s a fear - one I understand, mind you - but if it’s a fear in a simulation, then you know it’s not true, right?”

  “...I’m afraid I’m not following.”

  Virgil sighed, staring at their hands in his lap, his brow knit tightly over his eyes. “Of course you’re not useless, Roman; you’re a big part of Thomas for a reason. You’re not disappointing anyone, and you’re _definitely_ not a failure. It’s a fear, yeah, but it’s just as real as the ch- chi-”

  “Chimera.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” He went quiet, watching Roman’s hand on his. “You’re really important to us, Princey. You’re loud, and dramatic, and kinda annoying sometimes-”

  “Flattering.”

  “ _But_ you’re also pretty talented, and smart in your own weird way, and… you’re _something_ ,” he chuckled.

   _Something_. The word echoed in Roman’s head - a smile tugged at his lips before he could help it. “Thanks, Virgil.”

  Virgil gave him another crooked smile in return. “No problem. And Roman?” Roman hummed in response as Virgil turned his palm over, lacing their fingers together. “You can talk to me about those dragons anytime.”

  A laugh bubbled from Roman’s chest, his eyes sparkling. “Thank you,” he said again, his voice clear in air still heavy from the rain.

 He searched suddenly for the voice in his head - it was still there, he could tell, but it was hushed now; whether or not that was temporary, he didn’t know.

 But he wanted to revel in this silence for as long as he could.


End file.
